THE CURE OP FRIAIZE. 187 



can understand perpetual eating, but we, on the contrary, eat 

 nothing.' 



" ( A, little patience, and you will enjoy your dinner all the 

 better.' 



" ' If the cure* does not return soon he will find me dead.' 



" ' Yery well then, he will bury you. If you will take my 

 advice, let us go to the church ; you will see he will be very 

 much pleased by the attention, and no doubt reward us 

 with the best wine in his cellar.' 



" It was a fete-day. All the village, congregated around the 

 pulpit, listened to a magnificent sermon upon abstinence. 

 The cure was deprecating, in the strongest terms, all sensual 

 luxuries, and used his best rhetoric to persuade the villagers 

 that they ought not to drink Clos de Vougeot, or eat pheasants. 

 The good man was certain that his advice would not be lost, 

 as at Friaize potatoes formed the basis of the food of the 

 population. Sour cider was the common drink, and the very 

 name of Clos de Vougeot was totally unknown. We listened 

 to the sermon with eyes cast down, and some nervous antici- 

 pations of the application of its principles in our own par- 

 ticular cases. 



" ( Diable /' exclaimed one of the party, ' the sermon augurs 

 no good. We shall dine like anchorites, if anchorites dine 

 at all.' 



" ' Let us be off,' I said; * it is abominable to wait so long 

 for a bad dinner.' 



" ' Impossible ; the cure has seen us. We must meet our 

 fate with resignation.' 



" The sermon over, the cure* proceeded to the sacristy, where 

 we followed him. He received us with the utmost kindness, 

 begged of us to partake of his humble dinner, and arm-in- 

 arm we returned to the presbytery. 



" Upon our arrival, an excellent soup was served up, with 

 boulli, fish, a capon, partridges, a hare, vegetables, entremets, 



